


Teach Your Children Well

by KDblack



Series: In the Shadow of Midgar [6]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Gen, Troubling Unchildlike Behaviour, Turks (Compilation of FFVII), something is very wrong in shinra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28487892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KDblack/pseuds/KDblack
Summary: Reno's first impression of his future boss isn't a good one.(How Reno met Tseng's pet baby supervillain.)
Relationships: Reno & Rufus Shinra, Rufus Shinra & Tseng
Series: In the Shadow of Midgar [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1765723
Kudos: 25





	Teach Your Children Well

Reno's first impression of his future boss isn't a good one. That's not to say Rufus doesn't make a cute kid – he does, in that made-up, artificial, magazine way, all slick blond hair and haughty eyes, skin so pale and flawless it must never see the sun. Thirteen-year-olds aren't supposed to look like that. Reno sure as hell didn't way back when. Standing in a stark white room without any windows, filled with furniture too big for his tiny frame, Rufus might as well be a doll. It's sickening. Reno looks, long and hard, because that's what he does with things that make him sick: push his luck.

“You're my new security detail,” Rufus says, crisp and empty of meaning.

“Yep,” Reno drawls. “I'll be looking after you for a bit. Just til Tseng's back from his job. Don't go getting attached.”

Blue eyes stare up at him without emotion. “What do I call you?”

 _Well ideally, trust fund, you don't,_ Reno thinks, and introduces himself. Rufus nods and doesn't return the favour. He doesn't need to – everyone in the building knows who Rufus Shinra is. Only a petty asshole would hold this against him. Reno decides to do exactly that, because what is he if not a petty asshole? Just another suit. That's not a good look on a Turk. Soldiers whine about how mako makes you weird, and maybe there's some truth to that, but they've got nothing on the Turks' carefully cultivated eccentricities. Tseng hero-worships Veld, Rude bakes, Reno holds grudges for fun. Everyone needs an outlet.

Polished shoes move crisply over a floor begging to be stained with something. The charge is on the move. Rufus stops at the nearest bookshelf and selects a book thicker than his adolescent arm. Economics? Ugh.

“You will be bored.” That clinical tone doesn't match his image at all. “Are you permitted to read on duty?”

Reno grins and bares too many teeth. “Guess!”

Rufus just stares at him, unruffled and unimpressed. “I intend to spend the next eight hours studying. How will you spend it?”

It should be a threat – a petulant child pushing the boundaries of his tiny world. It reads like a simple statement of fact. Reno tilts his head, sticks his hands in his pockets, and considers. “Can't,” he says with the fakest dismay he's ever faked. “I'm on duty, y'know.”

Rufus dips his head silently and clicks over to his desk. When he sits down, his feet don't reach the floor. Someone's growth spurt is taking its sweet time. The book opens with a thump. Soon after, white hands begin leafing steadily through it. Reno settles down to wait for the inevitable distraction and the equally inevitable trouble. If there's one thing he learned under the Plate, it's that no rich brat can ignore a flashy plaything. And Reno is very good at making himself flashy.

As it turns out, Reno is wrong. Rufus ignores his existence for the entirety of his shift. Kid only raises his head when Tseng arrives, freshly washed but still smelling faintly of gunpowder. He doesn't look tired. Must've caught a nap on the way back, lucky bastard.

“Shift change,” Tseng says shortly.

“'bout time!” Reno shoots up and heads straight for the door. He has a partner to find and some serious complaining to do.

Tseng catches him and drags him outside into the hall. Then he leans in, the muscles in his jaw tight. “Report first. Did anything happen?”

“Literally nothing. This was the least interesting eight hours of my entire life.”

A quick nod. For a second, Tseng looks relieved. “Good. Dismissed.”

The second Tseng lets Reno go, he's gliding away, running the keycard through the lock in a single swift motion. It's a gesture that speaks of practice. Same goes for the soft, dull voice that speaks up as soon as the door opens.

No 'I missed you.' No 'where were you.' No 'please don't leave me again, that Reno guy's an asshat.' All Shinra Junior has to say is, “I believe I've found a hole in father's theory of trickle-down economics.”

Somehow, Tseng takes that as encouragement to start a conversation. Why, Reno has no idea. He skips off toward the stairs and leaves them to it.

Years later, Reno will look back on this and laugh at all the signs he missed. Rufus wasn't much good at hiding his nature when he was younger. But then, Rufus was never much good at being a child. None of them were. That should've been the first clue.

Despite the accusations hurled at Reno when he left the slums as a scrappy twelve-year-old, pockets bristling with stolen knives and blood drying on his hands, you aren't born a Turk. You have to work at it to capture that mindset - the cold, crystal clear haze, the balance of knowing exactly who and what you are without really caring, the ability to do anything if you're ordered to and only if you're ordered to. There are robots in the Science Department with more humanity than some Turks. Most Turks, really, Reno included. It's a long, drawn-out way of killing yourself, starting with the heart. They're dead long before they stop moving. But the paycheck is fantastic and the benefits are great, so really, who gives a shit? It's a pain to think too hard about it. Just lay back and let yourself be used.

It makes sense to find that kind of broken mindset in a slum rat or a low-caste Wutaiian brat, desperately scrabbling for life in the dirt at Shinra's feet. You don't expect to see it in a sheltered prince kept in an ivory tower. So Rufus went unnoticed, year after year, while the dead thing inside him festered. Would've been kinder to just put him out of his misery. Would've been more interesting to let him disappear into the labyrinthine corridors of the Investigation Sector. But no, the President let his picture-perfect son rot for years until the circuits began to misfire and something that should've been safely buried came shuddering back to life. The Turks all had ringside seats to the tragi-comedy of the year.

In another world, Rufus would've made a great Turk. What a pity they live in this one instead.

Being a visionary is much harder than being a chess piece.


End file.
